A Tale of Two Princes
by cinderwarren
Summary: This is the story of two brother, two princes, after the loss of their brother and father. This is the story of Princes Uther and Ambrosius as they fight to reclaim their kingdom. How did Uther, the third son, become king?


Chapter 1- A Tale for the Ages

Arthur's POV:

I was still in my bed recovering from the bite of the Questing Beast, though I was quickly on the mend thanks to Gaius's miracle remedy. My idiot manservant, Merlin, was quietly moving about the room tidying up, which was odd. Not that he was cleaning because despite my complaints he did do his job fairly well. No, what was odd was that he was being quiet; the idiot didn't have a silent bone in his body. So to entertain myself I threw a goblet at his head when he wasn't looking.

"Ow," he squeaked and then turned to glare at me. The boy did have some gall, not many people would dare to glare at their crown prince no matter what I'd done. "What did you do that for?"

I shrugged. "I'm bored; I've been cooped up in my bed for two days. I have nothing to do so I must find some way to entertain myself."

"Well could you entertain yourself without bludgeoning me?" he asked his voice snarky.

"Not unless you have a better idea?"

"What if I tell you a story instead?" he asked.

"A story?" I asked, looking at him as if he were insane. "What are you? My wet-nurse?"

"Is that a no?" he asked and began to walk away. "Shame, I know a few good ones."

"Wait," I said and he froze immediately, "Since I have nothing better to do we'll give your idea a try."

He turned back to me and there was a satisfied grin on his face. He sat down in the chair next to my bed.

"Once upon a time-" he began.

"Oh, don't tell me this is going to be some stupid fairy tale that children listen to, is it Merlin?" I asked, exasperated.

"No, actually it's more of a tragedy," he said, his eyes solemn.

"Fine."

So he began again. "Once upon a time there were two brothers, two princes, who were never destined to be king. No, that privilege firmly belonged to their older brother. But they didn't resent their brother for it, like many brothers in other families would, and they did not try to kill their brother so that they could take his place on the throne; no, instead they loved their brother all the more and tried to help him whenever the burden of being crown prince was too much for him."

"Well isn't that sweet," I said, "But does this story have a point? Or even a plot?"

"Yes, I'm getting to that Arthur," Merlin snapped. "This was just the prologue, all good stories have them."

I held up my hands in defeat and then motioned for him to continue.

"One day their father, the king, died," Merlin said, his eyes looked far away as if he was lost in a memory, "died of old age. Naturally, the kingdom mourned his passing, especially his sons who loved him dearly. But the kingdom needed a new king, least it be vulnerable to attack. So the council prepared to crown the eldest prince king one week after their father's burial, as is tradition. What few knew was that the crown prince did not want to be king. He'd always had a passion for religion and wished to join a monastery. But the kingdom needed him, as one noble reminded him. And it was this noble that convince the young prince, barely twenty summers, to put aside his own desires and become king. For the first year of his reign it was fairly peaceful, only a few minor skirmishes with enemy invaders, and the people loved him."

"But you see, the king made a mistake; almost the moment he took the throne he signed his death warrant," he said. "He appointed the noble as his chief advisor and gave him more power than ever had been granted to one man, save the king, and the noble got greedy. He went to the kingdom's enemies and took control of them then plotted the king's death. He ordered his new army to attack the king's castle, giving them plans to the underground escape tunnels so they could enter unopposed. Whilst his men took the castle, the noble went to the king's room, he was so trusted by everyone it was no trouble for him to get in, and stabled the king to death."

"Merlin, let me stop you for a minute and ask you a question," I said.

"What?" he asked growing irritated.

"Why do none of your characters have names?" I asked.

"Because I can't remember their names," he admitted.

"Well who told you this story? Surely they could tell you the names?" I asked because the story actually wasn't half bad it was just annoying that the characters were nameless.

He blushed. "I don't remember. I've just always known the story."

I sighed. "Fine, go on."

"Okay, so the noble stabbed the king to death, took control of the castle, and declared himself king. The false king sent his men to find the two young princes to have them executed but the knights who were loyal to the old king had the foresight to hide the two princes the moment the threat had made itself known. On the same night their brother died they were spirited from the castle by the last of their loyal knights. They were taken to a kingdom far, far away from their own because the knights fear the princes were too young, which was true as the elder of the two had just turned fifteen, besides they did not have any men to retake the castle. So they took the two princes to the mainland where they had very distant relatives and for a few years they lived there getting into all sorts of adventures."

"But eventually the two boys knew it was time to stop their innocent adventures and return home. The elder brother was now twenty and the younger was seventeen, they were grown enough to fight for their war-torn home. They had been living with some distant cousins. Their cousins offered them some of their own men to help win the fight. The princes readily accepted and set off immediately for their kingdom. Along the way they contacted other noble families who had fled the kingdom because they refused to bow to the usurper and asked for their aid."

He paused for a moment and looked out the window; once again he looked far away like he was in another place, another time. He took a deep breath and continued.

"It was a long, tiring war, and they lost a lot of men. But they eventually had the pretender running for his life. He hid in a fortress he'd been building for many years, only finishing it after a prophet 'saw' two dragons locked in an eternal battle under the hill he'd been trying to build the fortress on and helped the dragons escape so they could take their fighting somewhere else. When the brothers arrived they decided that instead of trying to capture the pretender they'd just burned him alive, fortress and all. So they did and the elder prince became king."

"The enemy army, not perturbed at all by the death of their leader (who in recent years became more of a puppet then a real leader) regrouped and began to attack the kingdom in earnest. The enemy was attacking on several fronts so the brothers split to face the threats on both fronts. They spent months like this pushing the enemy back. The brothers missed each other, though; they had always been closer to each other though they did love their eldest brother too. Then one night, while the younger brother was celebrating a recent victory a dragon shaped comet passed overhead and he suddenly felt such grief in his heart. That night, as he watched the comet pass, he cried certain that something had happened to his brother. And just as he was about to fall into a fitful sleep his brother appeared before him as a ghost."

"His brother told him he was now king and that it was his duty to take care of their people. He told him how proud he was of him and to not mourn his passing. He said that they would one day meet again. The younger brother asked him how that was possible and the specter replied 'Do not worry brother for I will not be dead long. I am to be reborn. Before your death, brother, we shall speak again.' The younger brother was once again confused. 'How,' he asked, 'you will not recognize me.' The ghost smiled sympathetically and said, 'Tomorrow when they come to tell you of my death they will bring you my sigil. Keep it with you, brother, for when the time is right you will find me. Place my sigil on my new body and I shall remember you again.' The young prince promised his brother that he would keep the sigil safe and that he would not stop until he found him. The ghost shook his head as if to disagree but said nothing. With one final goodbye the ghost disappeared. The new king went on to conquer his enemies and drove them away for good. He got married and had a son. He ruled his kingdom to the best of his ability and for most that would be enough, but not him. No, he was still waiting, still searching, for the day he would meet his brother again. He held on to the sigil, clinging to it as if it held all the gold in the world."

Merlin stopped talking and got up. When I realized he wasn't going to say anymore I threw another goblet. "Well?"

"Well what?" Merlin asked, angry. He rubbed his head and glared at me again.

"Did the king ever see his brother again?" I asked as if it should be obvious.

"Not yet," Merlin said mysteriously. "He waits for him still."

I was having breakfast with my father, something I rarely got to do as regent, and I was doing my best to coax him out of his catatonic state. It was my birthday after all; I just wanted to talk to him like before. I wanted to see him as he was before, strong, unshakable, a king among men; even if it was only for a moment.

"The court discussed the annual levy this morning," I said attempting to draw my father into conversation. "The council suggested we raise it but I feel the people already have a burden-"

"We should not talk about court today," he interrupted quietly.

"Father?" I asked.

"You think I would ever forget that today is the anniversary of your birth," he said with a small, proud smile. He seemed so vulnerable these day, all his defenses had been torn down when Morgana betrayed him. He'd given up and withdrawn into himself. There were days when he would say nothing at all. But it seemed he wanted to put an effort today, for me. "I take it there are plans for suitable celebrations this evening?"

"A feast," I said enthusiastically, whatever was needed to keep him talking, if only for a little longer, "and some, um…entertainment. I tell you about it tomorrow."

"Nonsense," he whispered with determination, "you think I would miss my own son's anniversary?"

I smiled, overjoy that he felt capable of joining the celebration. Maybe this evening wouldn't be so bad after all. In fact I had a feeling it was going to be the best birthday I've ever had. He returned my smile then asked, "So what would you like for your birthday?"

"Oh, no, father you're already giving me more than enough by being there," I said. Honestly he'd already given me what I wanted.

"Please, Arthur, there must be something you want that I never gave you?" he asked earnestly.

I thought about it for a moment, for his sake, though I was sure there was nothing I wanted. And then a stray thought passed through my head and I almost dismissed it when I realized it was perfect.

"Well, father, you hardly ever talk about your past," I began, "So maybe as a present you can tell me what your life was like before I was born. What was your youth like? How did you meet my mother? How did you propose?"

My father sighed and I thought maybe I went too far. "I'm sorry maybe something else then-"

"No!" he interrupted loudly. "No, this will be fine Arthur. I would like nothing more than to tell you my life story. It's just there are a lot of painful memories. But it would be ashamed not to talk about them, to not mention them to you at least once before I die. They deserve to be remembered."

"Who do you mean, father?" I asked.

"My brothers," he answered.

"You had siblings?" I asked with complete surprise. He had never mentioned them before.

"Yes, I had two older brothers," he said. "Their names were Constans and Ambrosius."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

"Well, son, it happened like this," he began. "I had always been a happy boy, preferring to spend my days playing childish games rather than studying. The tutors hated me. I was always loud during lessons and played innocent pranks on them when they least suspected. But it made my brothers laugh and their laughter was all the encouragement I needed. I remember this one time I put honey on the tutors chair and when he sat down it ruined his favorite robes, he quit right after that. My father didn't find my antics very amusing, at least not publicly, and over the years he had to hire many tutors because none of them could put up with me for long."

I laughed at my father's silliness and he joined me, thinking back on his youth.

"My childhood was simple, full of games and stories and loving older brothers who loved to play with me, and I am thankful for that. Because I wasn't the Crown Prince there was less responsibility on my shoulders. It left me a lot of room to make mistakes without serious consequences," he continued.

"It sounds nice," I commented remembering all the stress I had endured as Crown Prince and secretly envious of how easy my father had it in his youth.

"It was," he said wistfully, "But, of course, like all good things it eventually had to come to an end."


End file.
